


War

by RegularRainbow



Category: Aquaman (2018)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Minor Character Death, Multi, Original Character(s), Reader-Insert, Tragedy, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:12:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26146960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RegularRainbow/pseuds/RegularRainbow
Summary: You're a land-dwelling god. A relic from the before times. Before the wretched humans.Orm seeks your army: your soldiers, your weapons, you.
Relationships: Orm Marius/Reader, Orm Marius/You
Kudos: 10





	1. War: Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry King Orm hasn’t showed up yet, he’s coming. This really got away from me. I mean it was supposed to be a one-shot. The next part will be up tonight or tomorrow. Welcome to: War.

The day begins, the sun rises high into the sky, bright and burning; the heat inescapable as it pours over your shade-less land. Sweat drips down your forehead and pastes your thin clothing against your back.

Children run wild, red clay stains on their knees. Adults go about their trades: merchants boast bountiful harvests of fruit and wheat, butchers offer fresh meats from today's hunt, seamstresses sell fine garments.

A small girl knocks into your leg and falls onto her backside. A fond smile graces your features. “Can I help you, young one?”

The young girl stands quickly and bows, she glances up to look into your eyes, but averts her gaze. “Priestess Hera needs to speak with you” She says.

Your heart jumps, “Oh! I almost forgot” You wave to the young girl and head for the temple.

*

The temple in which Priestess Hera resides is one of your people's oldest. Built at the top of a sturdy hill, the temple has stood for millennia. The five deities, sculpted into the pillars that held the temple up, smile down onto your kingdom. From the bottom of the steps, the temple looks gold beneath the sun; as you reach the top, the temple appears milky yellow.

Opaque green stones line the temple floor, you follow their path. Inside the temple the walls are a wet red color, in the middle of the vast interior is a sparkling pool.

“Priestess Hera?” You call out.

Your voice echoes off the temple walls. No answer. You weren’t so late that she would believe you weren’t coming, possibly she’d just fallen asleep.

“Priestess Hera?” You tried again, louder.

“My Child” Priestess Hera says, her voice velvet smooth and coming from behind you. Her bony fingers grip your shoulder, pulling you toward the great pool.

You smile, she’d always been mischievous. Though, you hadn’t been young enough to frighten in 10 years, it was tradition for her to try.

“You’ll have to read this, my liege” Priestess Hera says.

“I’ve never been good at reading the water,” Hera shushes you and points. Water drips off the stalactites into the sparkling water below. You watch the water ripple, reading the great pool has always been a weakness of yours, not that your people could know. Though you were sure the pool wasn’t supposed to do that, wasn’t supposed to turn red like blood. Your heart picks up.

“What does it mean?”

“War.”


	2. War: Alliance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lost of exposition, but Orm is in this one. Yay! Thank you for reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: War, Tragedy

Then sun has risen and set many times since the sparkling pool bore its grim warning. And as it were, the sun would set again with war no nearer than it was yesterday, but unease weighs down on your soul; the deities were never wrong.

It near midday, and the streets are full and busy with people preparing for The Festival Of Stars.

You maneuver through the town square, hoping to find something simple, but well-formed. Though you can only seem to find the most flashy of garments left behind.

A clothing stand, a little ways back behind all the excitement, captures your attention. The owner is busy sewing more garments to sell during the festival.

You browse through fine pieces, searching for a exquisite outfit to wear to The Festival Of Stars. You prick yourself on a pin still stuck in a fine black tunic that caught your eye.

You yelp in pain, but the idea hurts more than the wound. The woman behind the stall looks up from the sewing machine, eyes wide with worry. She reaches over and snatches up the garment, searching for anymore dastardly pins. She bows her head, “My liege, I am so sorry”

“It's just a pin prick,”

“But, My liege-”

You smile at her concern, but wave it away just the same, “How much for the tunic.”

*

The Festival Of Stars is held on the highest hill overlooking the kingdom. It begins at dusk and continues well into the night. The sun has dipped below the horizon and the stars have begun to sparkle into existence as you make your way through the shop stalls.

The smell of festival food and wood fire fills the air. You think of your youth. It wasn’t much of a childhood you suppose. Most kids don’t learn war strategy and negotiation tactics, but you learned them for a reason. You wonder if the sparkling pool could have been wrong, maybe it was confused. Was war really coming? You shake those thoughts out of your head, to doubt the deities now would be a mistake.

Your stomachs grumble brings you from your thought, perhaps it was time for dinner and a show.

*

The stars are shining bright and the sky has turned the deep purple of night. Many stall owners with children have begun to head home.

A young boy and his mother pack away a stall full of intricately embroidered dolls. You remember these dolls; each one is handmade and no bigger than a woman’s palm; not a single one is the same. You had quite a few when you were younger; even one that was made to look like you.

“Hello, My liege” The stall owner says, “See any dolls you like.”

“Oh, I’m much too old for dolls” You say.

The young boy stops packing and holds a doll up for you to see. The stitch work is messy, but done with love. “I made him myself,” he says, a big smile spreads across his face, he’s missing a tooth toward the back of his mouth: he’s absolutely adorable.

“He’s a brave warrior” The young boy says, “like you.”

“Is he now?” You ask.

“Yeah, mom says he’ll protect me, just like you protect the kingdom” The young boy beams.

The stall owner has packed away the last doll and is ready to leave. It would not be easy getting through the festival-goers after the party had begun and nearly all the children had been taken home too. The young boy shares with you one last beaming smile and then waves goodbye.

Though turmoil has coiled around your gut and refuses to let go, the warmness of love reminds you to enjoy the festival

*

The crisp chill of night has set, the stars glimmer like diamonds around a bright full moon.

In this moment, all is peaceful.

In the next, a whistling fills the air, high and shrieking. It grows louder and louder, closer and closer.

*

You don't quite wake up, so much as float just within consciousness. You're too knocked out of your body and far away to actually consider yourself awake.

“My liege,” Priestess Hera calls for you, she sounds so far away, “My liege, please!”

All at once, the world snaps back into place. You're off your back and on your feet, running out into the city before the nurses can catch up.

Your hurt thunders in your chest and in your ears. You stumble some, your head spins, you keep running.

The streets are empty, rubble and broken shop carts lay in pieces like broken bones. Your legs take you faster before your brain registers it. Buildings lay collapsed where they once stood tall, you come to a halt. Your body screaming.

You find yourself in a familiar place: the market square. Charred fabrics blow across the sand like weeds. On the ground near the rubble of a fallen tenement, you pick up a hand-sewn doll.

Your legs give out beneath you, spilling you across the sand and debris. You brush the matted yarn hair from his face. A wet sob escapes you, a few tears wet the warrior dolls armour. The bomb blasted has burnt away his smile.

*

The Atlantean king shows up a couple weeks after the bombing. Walks out of the ocean, fantastical armor glinting in the sun. Behind him a big ship surfaces, within it an army.

The castle has survived unscathed, it had been built to withstand. Many people were left without homes, they now refuge in the castle halls. Even your office is occupied, so you speak with the King Orm in your bedroom.

“Why would the humans want war with us” You ask, more to the deities than the king beside you, “They shouldn’t even know we exist”

You will yourself not to break down. To look weak in front of the King would bring shame to your people—more shame than the failure which already laid heavy on your shoulders.

“Why wasn’t I prepared?” You whisper, then, as if you had remembered your audience, you ask, “Was Atlantis attacked as well?”

“One of our cities was hit,” King Orm says, there’s a bitterness to his voice. Though, you suppose there’s a bitterness to your voice as well.

“So you wish for my peoples help then,”

King Orm nods. “This is a necessary alliance, if we do not ally ourselves both our kingdoms will fall”

You consider his words carefully, “My people have been manipulated by your kind before,”

“I am not the kings before me” He says.

You peer out of the bedroom window, it had once given you a view of your beloved kingdom, now you are accosted by the sight of ruins every sunrise.

You worried your lip between your teeth: could you not win the war alone?

“You have very little to lose” King Orm offers, “and very much to gain.”

As hesitant as memories of the past made you, King Orm was right. Atlantis had been attacked as well and warring with your people would ensure mutual destruction.

You consider Orm one last time, searching for treachery in his eyes. Satisfied that you have found none, you make your decision: “The enemy of my enemy is my friend”


End file.
